Hello all. I’ve been away for a while and I hope this blog
finds everyone doing well.
So, let’s see. Where should I start? As most of you already
know, late last year Rhemalda Publishing closed their doors. That little
development knocked a bit of wind out of my sails, to use an overused cliché.
For over three years I lived, breathed, ate, and dreamed about how to help
Rhemalda grow into something special, which in turn would have boosted my
career as well as the other Rhemalda authors at the same time. That kind of relentless focus and drive over
a long period can take something out of a person and I’m no different. The
disappointment of the closure of Rhemalda forced me to step back and completely
reevaluate my writing career.
After rereleasing my books under my own imprint of Epertase
Publishing, I ended the year fairly exhausted and with a published writing
future looking rather bleak. I realized I was back right where I had started. You
know, query letters and manuscript submissions followed by the soon-to-receive
rejections and heartbreak of my next story not being “quite what we’re looking
for at this time.” I stood back and wondered if it would even be worth it to
start over and if it was did I have the energy to try. The answer was no.
Kinda.
Not yet, anyway.
I decided to do something drastic. I decided to leave the
writing world completely for a while and see if it recharged my batteries at
all. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t write a blog or Facebook post about my
decision. I didn’t do anything except walk away. Heck, I haven’t even looked at
my current WIP since last December. And promotion. Forget it. I’ve done nothing.
Zilch. Nada. And do you want to know what happened? It was the single greatest
thing I could have done. Sure, the sales of my books have ground to a near
standstill, but I couldn’t care less anymore. Here’s why.
After seven months, I am missing the actual art of writing.
I mean I’m really missing it in a I-love-pizza-and-can’t-have-it-anymore kind
of way. I don’t miss the bullshit that comes with trying to be a published
author, but I do miss the writing. Leaving the writing world allowed me to look
at what was important and realize that critical reviews, number of sales, and
that sort of garbage doesn’t really matter. I had never planned on a writing
career as being my financial way of life (I run into burning buildings for
that), so why the hell should it matter how many books I sell. Don’t get me
wrong, people don’t typically do things in hopes of failing, and I’m no
different, but what is success really? I’ve sold a respectable number of books
for being a nobody. Is that success? I’ve signed books at Barnes and Noble,
been interviewed on the local news and in papers, and have even had a
legitimate Hollywood production company show interest in Tamed (still ongoing but I haven’t heard from them for a while, so
my hopes aren’t real high for that anymore.) So, is that success? I don’t know.
The point here is why should I care? I started writing because I had stories to
tell.
The other day I got out my current WIP and started toiling
away at it. I loved working in that world again.
I
plan to move forward with my current WIP. Once it’s finished I’ll write something
else. In the meantime, I might try a query letter again and send it off to see
what happens but if it doesn’t work out then that’s life. I’ll just put the
book out on my own and write something else. It’s good to be back. I hope
everyone is having success in whatever you do.
